Sam Winchester: The Magical Satchel
by Evil Sprinkle
Summary: * *Sequel to Sam Winchester: The Curse Of The Brown FlipFlops* * Sam's got a satchel that he carries everywhere with him. Generally it just contains his beloved laptop and a few bits and pieces that may come in handy. One day, he discovers that it's got more space than he could ever imagine. Rated M for language
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I own nothing but a warped imagination and a strange sense of humour.**

_This is kind of a sequel to 'The Curse Of The Brown Flip-Flops'._

* * *

**Sam Winchester and the Magical Satchel**

Handbag.  
Lady Purse.  
Gay Bag.  
Fugly.  
Guy Purse.  
Fag Bag.  
Just Plain Gay.

Dean has many words to describe Sam's laptop holder of choice. Sure, he knows exactly how much it annoys his not so little brother when he shouts some of them extremely loudly in public, but he refuses to refer to it as anything that could be perceived as normal or cool. No matter how many times Sam tells him—shouts it in his face—Dean flat out refuses to call it what Sam wants.

**_A satchel._**

To Dean, Sam's 'satchel' is the un-coolest, campest and most embarrassing item his brother owns since the brown flip-flops thankfully perished, never to be seen again. The satchel has followed in the style of the brown flip-flops, being a colour that Dean can only describe as 'dog crap brown'. Once the flip-flops were out of the picture, Dean was hopeful that his brother would go back to appearing more manly. Obviously he was very, very wrong.

Under any other circumstances Dean would have taken the lady purse the day it got to be too much and burnt it, however he feels _slightly_ guilty about the flip-flop incident and he's pretty sure Sam wouldn't be as forgiving as he had been about his beloved sandals. Besides, he understands his brother needs something to carry his beloved laptop around in and sadly—much to Deans dismay—a plastic bag just isn't good enough.

"Sammy hurry up, they stop serving breakfast at eleven!" Dean shouted through the bathroom door. Sam had been in there what Dean considered to be an hour, when in fact it was only two minutes. "If I miss breakfast dude, you're dead." He added, giving the door a small kick for effect.

It quickly opened to reveal a rather annoyed looking Sam. "Dean," he started, pursing his lips into a thin line. "Firstly, if you'd got up earlier we wouldn't be in a rush and secondly, you shouting and kicking the door isn't going to make me get washed and dressed quicker!" he snapped, ensuring his centre parting was correct.

"What the hell have you been doing in there?" Dean asked, ignoring his brothers clear irritation, peering round him into the bathroom before narrowing his eyes. "Have you been Y'know—"

"—No, I'm not you Dean." He said snootily, scowling in disgust.

"Well either that or you've been in there a life time doing your hair…come to mention it, your curtains do look rather central today," he mocked, reaching up and flicking one side of Sam's hair with a smug grin only for his hand to be slapped away. "Ooo, someone's touchy this morning," he cooed, "Now come on, breakfast." He grinned at Sam one last time before heading towards the door.

Sam sighed, shut the bathroom door and headed from the room after his brother. Their latest demon hunting had led them to Belleville New Jersey, reports of teenagers mysteriously going missing without a trace. So far, they'd come up with nothing. They'd been asking questions and following 'leads' for around a week, but everything turned up cold and they were no closer to solving the mystery. Sam was seriously starting to wonder if there was anything supernatural about the disappearances at all.

After breakfast Dean informed him he had a new lead that he wanted to check out and told Sam to go back and keep searching for anything that stood out or sounded familiar in the old newspaper archives. Sam strolled back to the room, shuddering slightly in the cold New Jersey air. He quickly shut the motel room door, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He wandered over to his bed, picking up his beloved satchel and removing his laptop.

He leaned back against the headboard, wiggling around a bit before sighing contently in comfort. He placed the laptop on his knees and opened it up. Before he had a chance to press the _on_ button the screen came to life, an article from some old foreign newspaper popping up along with another open tab showing a translation box. Sam furrowed his eyebrows before clicking on the second tab to find the next of the article already entered into the translation box.

He placed his laptop on his bed and opened Dean's bedside drawer, taking out his small hand-held automatic pistol. He sprung from the bed like a panther before cautiously stepping towards the small wooden wardrobe. Gripping the gun tightly in his right hand and gulping, he quickly pulled open the door before jumping round to the front and taking aim. There was nothing and no one there.

His eyes quickly jolted towards the bathroom door. Again, as quick and as quietly, he crept towards the door, placing his back up against it. He reached out, swiftly turning the handle and pushing the door open before spinning quickly and taking aim – again nothing there. He quickly pulled back the shower curtain for good measure, but it too was clear. He was perplexed, someone _must_ have been in the room.

When Dean returned not long after he stepped in to find the room completely turned up side down. "Please tell me you haven't bought some lady sandals that have gone missing? 'cause this time, it seriously has nothing to do with me." Dean stated, looking around at the trashed room.

Sam's head suddenly popped up from the side of the bed, his messy hair covering part of his face. He raised his hands, creating a messy central parting before jumping to his feet. He dashed towards Dean, pulling him quickly into the room before popping his head out the door, looking left and right before darting back inside and closing it again.

"Dude, are you possessed or something?" Dean asked, peering at Sam's eyes whilst making a move to poke his face. Sam slapped his hand away before turning in a full circle before looking back to his brother.

He placed his hands on Dean's shoulders, his eyes wide. "Dean, someone or something's been in our room."

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "What? How'd you know?"

"My laptop," Sam said, rushing over to his bed and beckoning Dean over. "Someone's been on it and they left this." He turned the screen to face Dean. Dean squinted at it in confusion. "A clue." Sam informed him, pointing his finger towards the screen.

"Okay _Mystery Inc_., what the hell are you going on about?" he asked, sitting down on the bed. "Oh, and try to speak in full sentences this time."

"When I came back and turned on my laptop, this popped up." Dean's look remained confused. "It's an article from an old foreign newspaper and it was fully typed into the translator." Sam said, waiting for a reaction.

"And what does it say…?" Dean drawled out, casting Sam a look that said _please just get on with it dude_.

Sam adjusted before moistening his lips, his brows furrowed. "It's basically about a cult of teenagers who around 50 years ago in Italy came to believe the sun was going to get so hot it would burn everything on the earth. These teenagers got together to try to figure out ways they could avoid the disaster and be the only survivors to tell the tale."

"Seriously?" Dean mocked with a snort." Stupid teenagers…"

"Shut up and listen." Sam ordered as Dean's eyes widened and his mouth snapped open as he mouthed a 'how rude'. "Anyway, one of the teenagers got the idea if the sun was going to burn everything on the earth, why didn't they move under it."

"So basically these kids right now could have went all _Demolition Man_ style and could be right beneath us?" he asked, looking down at the floor before banging his foot as Sam quirked an eyebrow.

"Dean?" he looked up, "they're not going to hear that." He said, pouting slightly.

"I know that, do you think I'm an idiot?" Dean snapped, glaring towards his younger brother.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Sam says, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

"Pft, says you who believed there was such a thing as a flip-flop stealing demon," Dean mocked, giving a small chuckle before continuing, "and who's turned our entire room upside down _twice_, looking for something that doesn't even exist."

"How do you know someone hasn't been in our room this time?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes in a rather manic fashion.

"Who the hell would break into our room and put that on the screen? The only person who knows where we are and why we're her is Bobby and I don't think he's really the type to act the Father Christmas of the hunter world." He chuckled as an image of Bobby in a red suit, hat and white fluffy beard popped into his head.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Then who did it Dean? Someone must know what we've been trying to do."

"I don't know, and I really don't care. If someone or something has done it, they obviously don't want us dead, they're helping. So, instead of being nosy and scaring whoever or whatever is off, I say we leave it to its own natural devices." He said moving over to his bed, "Besides, it obviously isn't looking for a 'thank you', it didn't even leave a note or its name or any clue that it was even here, apart from that…if you can call it a clue."

"I think we should at least check it out." Sam said, closing his laptop and getting to his feet.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and looked up, "But I'm comfortable now, can't we just leave the sewer hunting till tomorrow morning?" he asked, shifting about to make himself more comfortable.

"No we can't, it's just past noon so we've got plenty of time."

"Why is it that every time some little adventure's going to leave us reeking like your old socks do you insist on jumping on in?"

"I just think this is something we should check out right away, if what the article says is true, then there's no need for us to hang around in this place any longer." Sam insisted, shoving his laptop back into his bag before sliding it under the bed. "Now come on."

After much huffing and protesting on Dean's part as Sam tried to drag him leg first towards the door and much screaming like a girl on Sam's part when Dean's flailing free foot kicked him in the face, they were soon stood above a sewer grate. Dean wasn't impressed. He stood, hands buried deep within his pockets looking down at the opening of the sewer in pure disgust as Sam used the crow bar to lift the lid. It smelt like rotten three week old shit and garbage.

Dean scrunched his nose and covered his airways with his arm as Sam prepared to climb in. "You can handle this one without me, if there's any problems I'll be back at the motel with food and a porno." Dean said, making to head off only to have Sam grab the material of his jeans tightly and tug him backwards. He stumbled, almost falling head first into the hole. "Watch it!" he snapped, straightening himself up and tugging his leg away from Sam.

"Quit complaining, the sooner we get down here the quicker we can get out of this place and to somewhere a bit warmer. I swear my toes are getting frost bite." And with that he began to make his way down the ladder and away from the sound of Dean muttering something about 'Frozen toe hair' before his voice became muffled then the sound of his laughter as he climbed down after Sam. Dean was still chuckling when his feet splashed into the water on the floor of the sewer.

"You're so cleaning the shit off these boots." He informed Sam who was stood, his eyebrows furrowed as he shone a torch down the tunnels before shoving another torch into Dean's chest. Sam pondered for a moment, listening carefully to the distant sound of running water before heading off to the left with Dean following behind him slowly.

They'd been walking for about 5 minutes before Dean stopped dead. "Dude, I'm bored." He whined, stomping his foot slightly for effect only to have the dirty sewer water splash up onto his jeans. It was the last place he wanted to be, he'd much rather be lay back at the reasonably clean motel room doing whatever he wanted.

"Shut up Dean, we've only been walking a minute." Sam scolded, continuing to walk forward, his lips pursed together in concentration as he listened for any sound that would indicate the location of the teenagers.

"Yeah right, it feels like I've been walking forever and this place reeks."

"Yeah, sewers tend to do that."

"You would know." Dean said before chuckling to himself.

Sam turned around with a look of confusion on his face "Dean, that didn't even make sense." He said, but his brother chose to ignore him and continued to chuckle to himself. They walked for what seemed like a life time and Dean was pretty much sure they were going round in circles. Every so often Sam would stop dead, pouting with furrowed brows as he listened for a noise other than the sound of running water. When Sam stopped for the _millionth_ time Dean was about to complain when his brothers finger lifted into the air.

"You hear that?" he asked, looking around with a pout. Dean was about to make a joke about someone taking a large crap when he heard it too. _Voices_. Despite being muffled they echoed through the tunnels. Before Dean had a chance to speak, Sam had already pointed a finger and headed off in that direction. Dean followed behind, struggling slightly to keep up with his brothers large strides.

After what felt like a lifetime of squelching their way through questionable substances, they came across a rather large opening in the sewer, complete with numerous teenagers. The young eyes were fixed on them as they approached, Sam almost tripping over a create which caused Dean to snort with laughter.

"Shut up Dean," Sam hissed as he came to a halt, looking around at the teenagers. They were all filthy, the bottoms of their jeans complete soaked, hair greasy, faces oily with patches of dirt.

"Who are you?" A boy asked, stepping forward, shoulders rolled back. He narrowed his eyes as he looked from Sam to Dean, inspecting their appearances. His face twisted into a sneer as he observed their clean faces, edging closer towards them.

"You reek." Dean grimaced, scrunching up his nose and creating a large space between himself and the boy. He wasn't sure how the kid had managed to smell worse than the sewer itself.

"Yeah? And you're an asshole, but you don't hear me complaining." The boy sneered, glaring harshly in Dean's direction. "You didn't answer my question, who are you?"

Dean's fingers began twitching as he ground his teeth harshly together. Sam knew what was about to come so he quickly intervened. "I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean. We've been investigating your disappearance."

"You're the police?!" the boy shouted, stepping back so he was amongst the others.

"No, no! We're not the police, we're just…investigators in the least formal sense possible." Sam informed them, holding up his hand in what he hoped was a calming fashion. The teenagers remained looking sceptical, casting their eyes from Sam to Dean and back again before looking at each other. Sam quickly put his gun away, cursing himself mentally for not doing it sooner, Dean slowly followed suit, glancing around at the teenagers as if they were about to devour his brain at any moment.

After what seemed like hours of awkward silences, peculiar looks and glares shared between Dean and the leader of the rabble every time Dean scrunched his nose up, Sam managed to calm the atmosphere and get the teens talking. He soon discovered the teens had the exact same idea as the kids in Italy had. They were convinced the sun was about to get hot, so hot in fact it would explode and burn everything on the earth's surface. Sam questioned them about where the idea had come from and all eyes turned to the boy who appeared to be the leader of their gang.

He pondered for a moment, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as he paced back and forth, Sam and Dean's eyes following his movements. He paced for a good few minutes before clearing his throat. "I had a dream," Dean snorted loudly, receiving glares from the boy and Sam. "In my dream, the sun exploded, it burnt out everything on the earth, but I was safe. Before it happened, an Angel appeared to me in the dream, told me about what was gonna go down, told me how to survive it. It worked in my dream."

"So, all of this," Dean said, waving his hand around at their surroundings, "this is because you had a dream?" he questioned, his tone patronising as he tried his hardest not to burst into laughter. Sam nudged him harshly in the ribs. "Ow, that hurt!"

"So," Sam started, casting a warning look towards his brother. "You dreamt the world was going to end, so you acted on it?"

"Well, yeah…wouldn't you?" he asked, stopping his pacing to look direct at Sam.

"Well, dreams are just dreams, no matter how vivid." Sam replied, twiddling his fingers and furrowing his brows.

"That's why I was chosen, they knew I wouldn't ignore it, they knew I'd act." The boy said, wide-eyed and stepping towards the brothers who backed away slightly.

It took a while for the words to process before Sam asked, confusion flooding his face "Who knew?"

"The Angels." Was the whispered answer they received as the boy looked towards the ceiling of the dank dark sewer. Sam glanced upwards quickly, ensuring there wasn't someone or something about to drop down and pounce on them. Dean on the other hand snorted loudly before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. As his amusement echoed around the sewer the boy's expression turned to once of annoyance. "You wouldn't understand, you weren't chosen."

"Look," Sam said, quickly clamping a hand over his brothers mouth to muffle the sound of laughter. "The world isn't going to end, well not yet anyway." The boy looked sceptical. "Don't you think if the sun was about to get so hot that it would melt everything, there'd be some kind of warning?"

"The government doesn't know, it's the end of the world!" he shouted, causing the rest of the group to gasp and cling to each other.

Sam was annoyed now. He'd tried to be understanding, but the guy was so frustrating, it was infuriating, but he tried to keep his cool. "I'm not talking about the government, I'm talking about in general…increased temperature, crops dying, lightning storms? There's been nothing out of the ordinary."

"It's the end of the world, it needs to be a surprise, something people can't avoid." He said, flailing his arms in the air as the rest of the group nodded in agreement before looking to Sam.

"Well surely, even if everyone knew about it, no one could prevent the end of the world." The room was filled with 'ahhs' as the rest of the group looked around at each other before looking to their leader.

This caught him, he just stared at Sam, not saying a single word. The small section of the sewer was filled with the sound of whispering from the rest of the group as they glanced towards their leader who remained stationary and mute in the middle of the opening. After a lifetime of awkward silence, Sam finally spoke. He managed to convince the rest of the group that their leader was delusional, one by one they exited the sewer. The leader however, wasn't so easily swayed.

After a good hour of Sam trying to talk him down, Dean took matters into his own hand – he held a gun to the kids face and frog-marched him out of the sewer before dragging him home. Once they were sure the kid was home and his parents had control of him, Sam turned to Dean.

"Was that absolutely necessary?" Sam scalded, following his brother as he headed off back towards their motel room.

"Yes, your touchy-feely mambo-jambo was taking too long, I'm cold, wet and stink like a farm yard."

"Bu—" Sam started, pouty-mouth at the ready.

"—No buts," Dean cut him off. "Right now I want to take a shower, then sleep until I feel like a human being again." And he headed off quickly, leaving a rather dumbfounded Sam stood on the sidewalk. Sam sighed, shook his head, took one last look at the boys home to see his parents embracing him, before heading off after his brother.

* * *

**This was floating around in my head. This is just the first part so let me know what you think. Thanks for reading**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a warped imagination and a strange sense of humour.**

**A/N:** _I'm not going to lie, most of you probably won't find this funny, but I chuckled like nobody's business whilst writing it._

* * *

It had been a week since the incident with the laptop and nothing remotely strange had gone on…well nothing that could be considered strange by their standards. They'd just solved a case a day ago and were on their way to Miami, Florida. Dean was sat in the driver's seat, one arm lent on the open window as they cruised down the deserted road. Sam was sat in the passenger's seat, window wide open and curtains blowing in the breeze. He shifted uncomfortably against the leather seats. Shit he was hot.

They'd been driving for around an hour when Sam complained of leg cramp, so Dean being the considerate older brother, pulled over at the side of the road to allow Sam to stretch his legs. After a short break they returned to the car and started their drive. 15 minutes later Sam was hungry, so once more Dean pulled over. This went on for some time and soon Dean was pissed. So pissed in fact that he'd considered strapping Sam to the top of the car like some sort of wigged surfboard just so he wouldn't have to listen to his complaints.

Dean grumbled, "What, again?" he asked loudly. They'd only been back on the road again half an hour after Sam had decided the _tenth_ pit stop was necessary, only then he claimed he was desperate to pee and threatened to relieve himself inside the car if Dean didn't pull over. Of course that got Dean's attention and he stopped the car immediately, only to be annoyed when Sam smugly told him he didn't need to relieve himself and was just in fact too hot sitting on the leather seats. "Dude, we've literally just started driving again and I'm not falling for the 'busting to pee' line again, so don't bother trying it."

"I wasn't going to say that, I know you're gullible but even you wouldn't fall for it twice, but can we _please_ stop at the next gas station or something." Dean shook his head, not even bothering to look over at his brother or even considering stopping the car.

"Look, this will be the last stop, I promise. I just want to change in a gas station restroom then I _swear_ I won't complain again."

Dean continued to shake his head, "Nope, and complain all you want. All I need to do is stick in Metallica and turn it way up, then your whiney little voice will become nothing."

"You do that and I swear I'll pee in this car." Dean remained silent. "Please, just this one last time, then I won't ask to stop again and I won't say another word till we get to the next stop unless you give me permission to speak."

2 gas stations later they finally pulled in. Sam had constantly whined about stopping while Dean stuck in Metallica and turned it up loud to block out the sound, only for Sam to try and control the steering wheel himself, the crazy driving almost landing them in a cactus. The music was promptly turned off and Dean lectured Sam about the many ways he'd torture him if his precious Impala came to any harm from Sam's 'crazy person' actions. Dean had barely stopped when Sam jumped out of the car, did two squats to loosen up his legs (much to Dean's horror and mild disgust), then sauntered off for the Gas Station restroom.

Dean stepped out the car, leaning casually against the bonnet whilst looking around. The sun was blaring brightly in the sky, causing a thin layer of sweat to form on his forehead. Sam seemed to be taking forever, so Dean decided it would be best to fill up on Gas and snack supplies – Sam would have no excuse to stop then. Dean came from the Gas Station and dumped the snack foods on the back seat before leaning back against the car door. He was considering marching to the bathrooms to find out what was going on, but the slamming of the heavy restroom door let him know there was no need.

Dean looked up and gawped as Sam emerged from the Gas Station restroom, dressed in ¾ length tan cargo pants, his legs on show and his leg hair. Dean's eyes widened in horror as he scanned his brother up and down. "Dude," he said, the rest of his words failing to form as he backed away from his encroaching brother, shaking his head vigorously from side to side. "What the—since when have you owned them?" he questioned, pointing towards Sam's pant choice in disgust/horror.

"I don't remember, I guess I must have bought them ages ago and forget I had them. They're honestly a life saver." He said gratefully, tugging slightly at the material.

"Yeah and you'll soon find out they're also a female repellent." Dean scrunched his nose up and turned around, not wanting to look at his brother any longer, only to be met with Sam's reflection in the cars shiny surface. "Argh," Dean yelled, holding his arms up over his eyes. Dean remained with his arms over his eyes until he heard the passenger's side door shut. He removed his face cover and got in.

As they set off again, the sun shining brightly in the sky, Dean started to notice exactly how almost unbearably hot it was. Despite the open window he could feel his t-shirt sticking to his skin, pressed up against the leather of the seats. His jeans were feeling uncomfortable – he was near sure there would be chafing. He fidgeted slightly so that Sam wouldn't notice. Damn he was right, it was really hot. However, he would not subject himself to shorts, he had a reputation to uphold, unlike his younger brother.

Around three hours later they arrived at their destination; Miami, Florida. The sun bleared down harder than ever as Dean pulled the Impala into the last parking spot in the car park of yet another crappy motel. He would have complained but he was too thankful that he hadn't had to drive around looking for somewhere else to park, somewhere further away that would have required lots of walking and _chafing_.

He turned off the engine and removed his keys from the ignition before getting out. Sam followed suit, his locks blowing slightly in the breeze whilst he examined his surroundings with what Dean could only describe as a 'pouty' look. Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably before quickly walking towards the motels reception. He could hear Sam scurrying behind him and judging by a yelp, he figured his brother nearly had, or had just tripped over. He didn't bother checking, all he wanted was to get Sam away from public eyes as quickly as possible.

The door dinged as Dean entered. The man sat behind the desk didn't look up or acknowledge Dean's presence. He looked as if he was ready to stick his head in the microwave. He was slouched forward, head rested on his hand as he looked glumly down at the wooden surface. "One twin," Dean said as he approached the desk. The man raised his eyes, a bored expression on his face. He swivelled on the chair to face the computer.

"How long for?" He drawled out before yawning, his mouth opening wider than Dean had seen anyone's mouth open before.

He shook his head, "I don't know yet," the door dinged once more and Dean shuddered.

The man looked away from the computer and back to Dean, "You and your," he paused, "friend? Can just pay each day you're here."

"He's my brother." Dean said, giving an awkward smile.

"I don't care." The man grumbled. He collected their details quickly and typed them into the computer before handing Dean the key to room 35. Dean muttered a quick ' thank you' before ushering Sam out the door and quickly towards their room.

"Dean, quit pushing me!" Sam scolded as he attempted to free himself from Dean's hands which were shoving rather hard into his shoulder blades. Sam pushed his heels towards the ground, causing him to flail forward as Dean continued to shove him. "What's the matter with you Dean?!" Sam turned to face his brother who was looking around frantically.

"What's the matter with me? I'll tell you what." He cast his eyes towards Sam's shorts. "Those are what's the matter. Now quickly get inside before people start looking." He stepped forward and turned Sam round, shoving him once more. Sam rubbed his arm whilst Dean unlocked the door, still continuing to look around.

"You know, you acting suspicious is the only thing that's going to attract attention."

"No, what's going to attract attention is you dressed like that, now get inside before people start thinking I've just hired a rent boy." His voice was low, his eyes still darting around to make sure there was no passers-by were staring.

Sam rolled his eyes and entered their room, closely followed by Dean who quickly shut the door then drew the curtains. Sam was going to ask what Dean's problem was, but his brother was already sprawled out on his bed and snoring away before Sam could even complain about being hustled into a motel room.

The next morning Sam woke to find Dean already gone, he figured he'd gone to get breakfast and collect some information about their potential case, either that or he was at some bar trying to pick up some females. He kicked off the thin covers, suddenly becoming aware of exactly how hot he was. He got out of bed and went over to his satchel to get his towel and toiletries, intending to take a long cool shower. He opened his satchel to find it seemed a lot more packed than the last time he'd opened it. He removed the towel and toiletries, his eyes widening as he stared at the contents of the bottom of his satchel. Tan camouflage cargo pants. Tight grey V-neck t-shirt and best of all.

Brown flip-flops.

A smiled tugged on the corner of his lips as he carefully picked up the footwear as if they were about to dissolve in his hands like a desert oasis.

"This isn't possible," he whispered to himself as he caressed the shoes, his eyes briefly scanning the room to check Dean wasn't hiding somewhere and playing a cruel joke on him. After a few moments of wondering what the hell was going on, he decided to just accept their presence. He quickly bundled together his new items along with his towel and toiletries before retreating to the bathroom and locking the door tightly behind him.

Dean was hot. No, not hot. He was actually _melting_. He'd woke around 5:00am in sweats, his clothes sticking to his skin, and decided he needed to go somewhere cool, somewhere that had air-conditioning. That's how he ended up here, in a small 50's style diner on the beach front. He was contently lounging against the red leather of the booth seats, the cool air from the grates in the roof blowing on his face as he drank his coffee and ate possibly the most delicious sandwich he'd ever tasted.

After around two hours of sitting happily under the gust of the air-conditioning, he decided it was probably best he left. Sam would be worried where he was and the owner of the diner kept glaring at him from behind the counter for taking so long eating his sandwich and drinking his coffee. He paid for his meal, leaving a tip which he told the woman was "for the air" as he pointed towards the ceiling before leaving the shop.

The walk back to the motel room was slow, his trousers were rubbing uncomfortably against his thighs and he was pretty sure he was starting to look like John Wayne. By the time he reached their motel room he was certain he was on the verge of death. He breathed a sigh of relief as he walked through the door. The room was empty, but he could hear running water coming from the bathroom.

"Shit," he muttered, realising he'd forgotten to get Sam something for breakfast. "Sammy, I kind of forgot your breakfast, I'm going to get it!" he called, groaning inwardly before turning and leaving the room.

"Dean, wait up!" Dean was halfway across the parking lot when his brother called loudly from behind him. Dean turned to see what his brother wanted, but immediately wished he'd just ran and never looked back.

"I'll come with you." Sam said, jogging towards his brother.

Dean felt his heart stop as it jumped into his throat, his stomach churning unpleasantly as his eyes felt as if they were burning. There before him was Sam, but not the Sam Dean was used to seeing. His longish locks were tied at the nape of his neck in a ponytail, the ends flicking out slightly. His once dorky t-shirt had been replaced with an overly tight grey one which contained a v-shaped neckline that reached to the centre of his chest. The plain cargo pants hadn't been enough and were now replaced with tan camouflaged cargo pants and the plain old boring sneakers were gone. That's right, the dog crap brown sandals were back in business.

"This has got to be a nightmare, wake up Dean," he said slapping himself across the face, "wake up Dean," he closed his eyes tightly and slapped his face again. After a few seconds he opened his eyes, a distressed look forming on his face. "What man? _Why_?" he whined in an almost childish manor pointing towards his brother.

"Dean," Sam said, taking a step forward only to have Dean take _three_ steps back, "We're in Florida, the weather's boiling, everyone wears this kind of stuff." He gestured towards his outfit.

"No, no, no," he said, shaking his head vigorously like a child refusing to eat his vegetables. "everyone doesn't wear that!" he pointed his brother up and down. "I swear you go out of your way to embarrass me as much as possible." His eyes darted from side to side as he turned his head, looking to see if anyone was watching or staring.

"Dean, I'm not trying to embarrass you. It's hot, this outfit's comfortable, that's all." Sam insisted, hoping his brother would see reason and stop making such a big deal out of it.

"Well I'm hot and you don't see my prancing around like that, do you?" Dean retorted, pointing his brother up and down again before casting his eyes around the area once more.

"Dean, will you quit with that look, people have more interesting and important things to do than watch us argue over what I'm wearing!" Sam furrowed his brows, his lips pursing together in frustration.

"Will you keep your voice down, you're attracting attention." Dean near pleaded, his eyes wide and panicky.

"Attention, from who exactly?" Sam looked shiftily around, wondering if he wasn't exactly seeing who his brother was seeing.

Dean looked around, noticing there was no one anywhere to be seen, "Uh…um…Squirrels?" he suggested.

"Squirrels? Seriously?" Sam questioned, quirking an eyebrow at his brother.

Dean looked annoyed before shaking his head then storming off down the street. Sam chuckled to himself and followed behind.

"Dude, hang back." Dean said, strutting in a rather manly fashion while casting a look over his shoulder to judge the distance between himself and his brother.

"I should be telling you to hang back, you smell like a foot." Sam commented rather loudly, casting a filthy look at the back of his brothers head. Dean suddenly stopped and turned to glare at Sam.

"I may smell like a foot, but at least I'm a manly foot!" Dean shouted, jabbing his finger in Sam's direction. Sam snorted loudly before bursting into laughter and continuing in the direction they were heading. They continued down the road in silence, Dean hanging a good number of steps behind Sam, looking in every direction possible except at his brother. Each time Sam stopped, Dean would too, turning around to avoid any form of eye contact that would let people know they knew each other.

After three failed attempts to get his brother's attention, Sam decided to give up and quickened his pace. He'd only walked around 2 blocks before he started to feel the negative side effect to wearing flip-flops in hot weather. Chafing between his toes. He cast his eyes ahead, noticing a clothing store a few doors away.

"Dean, I need to go in this store a minute, you go ahead and get some breakfast, I'll meet you back here." He said loudly, not turning round to look at his brother or wait for any form of acknowledgement. As Sam veered off, Dean continued walking towards the diner. Inside he ordered his brothers breakfast to go and some extra breakfast for himself. He deserved it, after all he'd been through a lot of trauma recently in relation to his brothers attire of choice.

As he waited for his ordered he took full advantage of the air-conditioning, standing under it and sighing loudly as it cooled the sweat and dried out his clothes. Sam was right, he did smell pretty bad. After five minutes of waiting and some peculiar looks from the diner's owner, he headed out, two breakfast in hand. As he approached the store his brother had entered, his spotted Sam's partained locks through the window and quickened his pace, swiftly passing the door as it began to open.

He didn't look back, just kept going down the street, almost tripping over a broken slate in the pavement and earning chuckles from behind him. He was almost back at the motel parking lot when Sam called his name loudly. "Hey Dean, wait up a minute." He contemplated continuing but he couldn't ignore Sam forever. Dressed like an idiot or not, the guy was still his kid brother. Dean stopped and turned, immediately regretting not walking on.

"You've got ninja toes." Dean said, his gaze of horror fixed firmly on his brothers feet. He'd thought things couldn't get any worse after the brown flip-flops returned, how wrong he was. "Girl sandals are bad enough, never mind girl sandals _**and**_ white socks."

"There's nothing wrong with the way I'm dressed, it's perfectly normal." Sam stated in a matter-of-fact tone, signalling towards his outfit whilst approached Dean slowly.

"Have you been smoking something, what you're wearing is anything but normal." Dean informed him, tugging at his hair slightly in frustration. Sam pouted and shook his head, folding his arms tightly across his chest. Dean could feel the perspiration on his own forehead, and he was sure as hell it wasn't from the blistering heat. His mind was working overtime, convincing him that people were staring, that Sam was attracting attention and that all the hot chicks thought he was gay.

"Dean, would you just calm down for a minute." Sam held his hands up in what Dean suspected was _supposed_ to be a reassuring fashion.

"Calm down? Calm down? You're standing there looking like a holiday paedophile and you want me to calm down?!" He signalled to his brother, turning his head in despair and wondering why things like that had to happen to him.

"Dean, you're acting crazy." Sam tried to reason, but he knew it was no use. Dean was clearly frustrated and extremely wound up.

"I'm acting crazy?!" Dean shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration, "This coming from the guy who's dressed like that in public!" He yelled before heading in the direction of the motel car park. He could hear Sam's flip-flops flapping against the pavement behind him. This time he didn't stop, he knew what was following him and he knew why.

Dean approached the door of their motel room, unlocking it and quickly shoving it open. He headed for his bed as Sam entered the room and shut the door behind him. "That does it, we're going to see Bobby, this isn't normal. You're girl bag's possessed or something!" Dean shouted, pointing at Sam's satchel as if it were the devil himself.

"A possessed bag? Are you serious Dean?" Sam questioned, quirking an eyebrow in the direction of his Satchel and wondering if the heat was getting to Dean that much that he was having hallucinations.

"Yeah too right I'm serious. You want something then all of a sudden it appears in the bottom of your handbag."

"It's a satchel. And I doubt they just appeared, I guess I bought them and forgot about it." Sam informed him, tugging at the material of his cargo pants.

Dean shook his head vigorously whilst pointing towards Sam's feet. "Nope, me and Bobby burnt them." He jabbed his finger at the flip-flops again. "I know for a _fact_ they're were _long_ gone."

Dean was fed up, things had reached what he considered to be the limit. Cargo pants he could deal with, even the tight shirt and the ponytail, but the flip-flops and flip-flops combined with white socks, no way.

Sam Started muttering something but Dean wasn't listening, he was too busy quickly shoving all his belongings into his duffel bag. He wanted to get away from here, away from the heat and the judgemental looks. Sam soon stopped his muttering and packed away his belongings, making a 'humph' noise with every item he put into his satchel.

They were soon all packed up and left the motel room, Dean locking the door behind him before striding over to the reception area. The bell dinged as he entered and much to his horror it went off again as he approached the desk, letting him know Sam had followed. He quickly slammed his hand down on the bell on the top of the counter. The owner came from the back room, looking Sam up and down before shaking his head and muttering something that Dean was sure sounded like 'Fairy's' under his breath.

"Did you and your _friend_ find the room okay?" he asked in a mocking tone, giving a small snort when Dean glared.

"He's my brother." Dean stated, slamming the key down onto the countertop, before starting to turn towards the door

"Yeah, right…" the man scoffed, turning to put the key back with the others.

"Actually, your room freaking sucked." Dean shouted, turning to point at the man before turning back to his brother and shoving him out the door before storming out himself, slamming it hard behind him on the man and his laughter.

"Dean?" Sam called as he tried to jog after his brother who was storming towards where the Impala was parked. Dean ignored him, fishing his keys out of his jacket pocket and jamming them into the car lock. "Dean?" Sam called again, standing round the passenger's side. Again he was ignored as Dean got into the car and slammed the door. Sam followed suit, slumping into the passenger's seat as Dean jammed the key into the ignition. "Dean?" Sam repeated once more

"What?!" Dean shouted, slamming his hands hard against the steering wheel. "What is it Sammy?!"

"Why are you letting that guy get to you?" Sam questioned in a motherly tone, his face filled with concern as he witnessed his brother practically tugging at his hair in what he suspected to be frustration.

"He's not getting to me." Dean said abruptly, pulling on his seat belt.

Sam did the same, "He obviously is, look at the way you're acting."

"He's not getting to me Sammy, because you are!" Dean snapped. Sam's mouth dropped open. "You seem to go out of your way to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible."

"What?!" Sam shouted, his brows furrowing. "I've got better things to do than make you feel uncomfortable."

"Yeah? Well why don't you act like it and start dressing like a normal human being!" Dean snapped, starting up the car and pulling out the parking lot so fast he almost crashed into a van. Sam screamed like a girl, and Dean flipped the van's driver off before taking off down the road, leaving the sound of beeping horns far behind them.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**


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